Danny Kemp.


To try is such a worthy thing. To wait; a worthless thing. Those who try stand to fall. While those who wait gain nothing at all. Danny Kemp.


Living ‘The Desolate Garden’ and the newly found frustrating life of a writer.

An image grows from a dream and becomes ‘real’ to the story teller. My story, The Desolate Garden, came directly from a dream. I saw, in my minds eye, an attractive woman sitting in the martini bar of a famous London Hotel, saying to a ‘supposed’ stranger, “tell me a joke.” I then enlarged on that dream, turning it into the tale that it became.

The writer in me lived that dream all day, going through the life of the central characters as if it was me walking those streets in their shoes.

My father, when alive, said I was deceitful, meaning I told lies . . . That’s really a story in the making, as you become aware that you have to remember the initial ‘lie.’ With a story you write that ‘lie,’ and easily refer back to it. Father was right, incidentally.

Some, I believe, over complicate storytelling with needless grammar that only the esoteric can recognize. I want to understand the tale, not have to refer to a dictionary.

All my life I’ve been around people of different breeding, speaking to them and hearing them speak and, perhaps more importantly, listening to them. Dialogue makes a story solid to me. As a writer you paint the broad strokes, then let the characters come alive and fill in the detail, as you or I would if you come across a stranger who asks about your life. The beginning, the hook, is important. The end is important. The middle is what joins the two together and makes or breaks that story.

If you live an interesting life, and are lucky, it never goes from point A, birth, straight to point B, death. It has many diversions . . . that’s the story.

I saw it once described as packing a suitcase. The stuff you pack in the middle are the essential bits; in my case, that’s the story. Some, I find, fill it with dull, bland prose that rolls on and on, full of dross. In the case of a film they use the bedroom to hide the mundane. To me, the story never stops being told. Never an item of clothing of waste in the suitcase, or a passage in the novel, that isn’t necessary.

I have always a beginning. I have two stories at various stages underway now, and another beginning of one in my head. The middle leads off from that . . . leading to an end that I never know when I start.

It excites me that way, as nothing is forced. If there is a defined ‘end’ when you start, it seems to me that you are governed by that ‘end.’ I’m open all the way until it’s obvious, to me, but not the reader. (There’s that deception that my father recognized.) Then I might go back and change something in that middle if needs be, or simply redefine the dialogue, perhaps a hint of that end. Here’s a brief synopsis of the story of The Desolate Garden, which I hope you will read and enjoy:

Only months before the murders of Lord Elliot Paterson and his youngest son Edward, an address in Leningrad is discovered hidden in the ledgers of the Families Private Bank in Westminster, dating back to the 1930’s.—-There is a spy in the Family, but on whose side?

Elliot’s eldest son, Harry, is recruited into the British Intelligence Service to uncover the traitor.


Lord Harry Paterson, Earl of Harrogate, is introduced to an attractive woman from the Foreign Office and together, desperately, they try to unravel the intricate web before the killer strikes again.

The Desolate Garden is a twisting tale of deceit and intrigue, spanning decades when the truth was best not told!

The Desolate Garden is on forty worldwide internet sites and in major bookshops in the United Kingdom. It comes in Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle and Nook.

Filming begins next year in the United Arab Emirates and on location in London.

The Amazon link where four chapters can be read from either the Book or The Kindle is: http://www.amazon.com/The-Desolate-Garden-ebook/dp/B008BJWJ2Y/ref=tmm_kin_title_0


About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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